


Solace

by LuchaDoRa



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Development, Colonization, Dystopian, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Fluff w/ a Side of Agony, Jim Really Hates Vulcans, M/M, No Federation, No One Asked For This AU WHELP, Post-Invasion, Sassy Spock (Star Trek), Slow Burn, So Much UST Like JEEZ, Spock is actually a Savage, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-04-08 00:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14093121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuchaDoRa/pseuds/LuchaDoRa
Summary: Jim really hates those neighbouring Vulcans and their stupid pointed ears. So, after being accused of murder and given community service for illegal drinking, a Vulcan face is the last one he wants to see.But there's something about that one Vulcan who supervises him with the human eyes; his exterior hard and his soul soft. Jim had never seen such a fierce internal war anything like it behind an expression before.-Ask him of an Earth with lush greens, expanses of wide oceans and an almost unblemished ozone layer. Jim doesn't know it.Because when the Vulcans first landed in 2063, they did more than just make first contact. They colonised.Earth is the "New Vulcan".-





	1. Mandatory Leave Of Absence

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a new project that I'm excited about. It's going to be a long one, so I hope I can see it through to the end. So strap yourselves in and thank you so much for being here! :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles are from the Star Trek Soundtrack (pun points go to Michael Giacchino)

 

Jim tied the scarf around his breathing holes a little more tightly than he cared for. It had been dampened to allow him to inhale exhale through the dunes without coughing up a plate of sand. Iowa was baking in the winter. And the summer. It didn't matter on Earth, not with climate modifiers.

He sucked in a steadying breath before opening his door. The winter winds swirled sand straight through into his home, though he didn't care in the slightest. Sand was pretty much part of the decor. He hissed as it nicked at his skin, cursing himself for not wearing something more covering.

Butler, his Great Dane, barked disapprovingly but followed suit. He patted Butler on the head before they began their walk together.

"I know you hate the wind, Butler. But you know I hate walking alone."

The climate wasn't a problem for Jim. He grew up with it. He heard the stories as a child; of a previous Earth, with bodies of water as far as the eye could see - oceans? - and tall trees dense enough to block light and stop vegetation growing on the floor. He heard tales of a fielded Iowa; corn farms everywhere. The sheer lunacy of it was laughable. It wasn't the dull red sky that bothered him, it was the Vulcan shuttles that soared through them. Superior? Huh.

Suddenly Butler let out a low, warning growl. Jim ducked, instantly knowing what it meant. He stilled his breathing so he could listen intently and heard it: the faint humming of a Vulcan Shuttle passing overhead.

"Sorry, boy." Jim said, and he meant it, as he lifted the lid of the closest dumpster. "But you have to get in."

Butler, as loyal as ever, climbed in without rebellion with Jim following. Jim really had to give credit to dogs more. People just didn't get how smart they actually were.

He lifted the lid slightly to watch the Shuttle pass over them and go North towards the Vulcan city Shi'Kahr. He paused for a moment, giving it a few seconds just in case for any other following vehicles to pass to before getting out. It wasn't that they could do anything to him - he hadn't been doing anything illegal, or least, been _caught_ doing anything illegal - but he wanted to avoid as much interaction with the green-bloods as possible, fearing it would transgress into punching them in the face or something equally as violent. God, he hated their stupid expressionless faces.

When no other shuttles passed, Jim's expression twisted with contortion. That was odd. Usually Vulcan patrols would travel with more than one shuttle. Why only one? It seemed a bit of a fancier machine than usual patrol vehicles, so Jim wondered which important person it was holding. Deciding not to worry more on the matter, he climbed out of the Vulcan dumpster.

"What you got there, boy?" Jim looked over at Butler, who had taken interest in something buried in the trash. He barked triumphantly, handing a small piece of scrap into his master's hand. Jim looked down at it. It seemed to be some sort of Vulcan clamp. It might be useful.

"Good boy." He patted his dog a second time before resuming the journey, pocketing the treasure.

The pros of living just outside the Vulcan city was worth the risk. He was close to a water source and away from other people. He had to journey into the human settlement often for work which wasn't ideal, but he liked his space. He just hated being with other people, if he was honest. They just didn't get him and his Vulcan-hating ways.

Jim was a man who got where he was because he did it himself. He did it when his Dad died, he did it when his mom left, he did it when his step-dad raised his fist.

No one was there for him then.

The small clinic Jim made his way over to was one of the only places he visited in the human settlement aside from his work place. Beside himself, he smiled at the kids playing together in the sand, always milled around outside on calm days when the Sun wasn't so harsh. The settlement walls meant the dune winds weren't too strong. He pulled down his scarf.

Jim entered and a bell clanged softly. Security system. "Anyone home?"

"Course I am, you lump of shit. Where else am I going to be?"

Jim chuckled at the usual greeting. "Good to see you too, Bones."

"Oh yeah, sure, it's great coming over in the middle of the fucking storm for no reason, blowing sand all in my clinic." He nagged.

Bones was Jim's most trusted friend. He was 6 years older than Jim, but the harshness of his life had aged his handsome features prematurely. He quite literally did look like nothing but skin and bones. But Hell, Jim wasn't exactly closer to 20 than he was to 30 anymore, so he couldn't talk.

Used to Bones' way of showing appreciation, he smiled. "Come on Bones, I'd still visit you in the Great Drought, you know that." He batted.

"Unfortunately for me, yeah you would." He muttered, making his way over to him. "How's the wound?"

"Worse. I think I tore open the stitches." Jim attempted to stretch his hurt shoulder.

"Not you. I'm talking about Butler." Bones had dropped to the floor, examining the dog's missing ear from an incident not too long ago.

"Oh nice, check the dog first."

"If you're insisting I ain't arguing." Bones then straightened up to check Jim. "Who's a good boy?"

"Funny." He would've laughed, but a sharp pain made him hiss instead. "Asshole! You did that on purpose!"

"Jesus Christ, Jim! Do you have any idea how bad this is? You've torn 6 stitches. What do you do with yourself?!"

Jim knew there were a lot of ways to answer that question.

"Don't answer actually, I don't want to hear it. I'll fix it this time but if you don't rest properly, you can do them yourself."

Jim would have made a comment about doing a better job himself, bit he was on a thin thread here, quite literally speaking, so he shut his smart-ass up and let his friend work.

"Supplies are almost out. Those fucking hobgoblins expect me to work with small rations from the Stone Age. Needle and thread, while they're regenerating tissue in their sleek hospitals. Needle and thread!"

Bones was quite possibly the only other human who shared his dislike for the Vulcan race. Maybe even more than him.

"Oh yeah, the superior species gets all while the inferiors get practically nothing, right?" Jim added, the end of his sentence going up an octave from pain. He sighed. "And people look at me like I'm weird. Don't they realise what's right in front of their eyes?"

Okay, maybe not more than him.

"What do you mean Jim?"

"Well look. When these bastards came to our planet nearly 200 years ago they had us so in shock that you can't even call it an invasion. We fucking _let_ them take over, let them take our resources, our climate, everything that's Earth. And look at this." He threw an arm out to motion towards outside, despite Bones' protest. "What kind of shitty life is this, grovelling under an alien species for them to gift us with this bare-minimum life? No one wants to do anything about it. People accept it. Hell, they _like_  it Bones."

"What do you expect? For the last 200 years, it's all they've known. People don't like change. They wouldn't know what to do with themselves without the hobgoblins. Shit, I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"We're capable of so much more than this. We could be up there, travelling faster than the speed of light, exploring galaxies after galaxies." Jim dreamed aloud. "Instead we're slaving away on this fucking dust bowl."

Bones chuckled at the madness. "Good one, Jim."

He sighed a second time. "I don't know why I think like this, Bones. I have this disposition to make myself unhappy. Maybe if I accepted it like everyone else-"

"But you ain't t like everyone else, Jim. You're smart, questioning, and you hate other people's answers that don't coincide with your own."

"Alright, now this is getting a little steamy here-"

Bones poked him a little vigorously with the needle, making him complain.

Jim sighed a final time. "So what's your official reason for hating the pointy-eared bastards?"

"Me? I hate everyone."

 

Jim made his way back to his home after being patched up (he took a reminder to watch himself more carefully as to avoid pissing off Bones). His shack-like house would look abandoned to the logical eye, because there would be no logical explanation for someone to inhabit a such a crude location far from other humans and so near the Vulcan city border. Especially when it looked like it was falling apart. That was the beauty of it. It was illogical, and Jim loved anything illogical.

He poured a little water into Butler's bowl, and poured a glass for himself. Jim almost snarled at the lack of water he had left.  
"Guess I'm skipping the shower tonight then." He scowled at himself. He made a mental note to replenish his water supply.

Once he was suitably hydrated, he took the walk to his shed outside. It may have only been a few 10 feet from his door, but the winter sandstorm upon them didn't show any sign for making it easy on Jim. Nothing ever did.

He shuddered to rid himself of any grainy residual once entering his shed and flicked on the light. 5 hours of electricity shares a day was a privilege, so Jim liked to make the most of them.

His man-cave was as dingy as it sounded. The wood creaked at the wind, the light bulb flickered and swung loosely and there was a manly, musky smell of sweat filtered into every crevice of available space. But it was large enough for his projects, and he was happy for that.

Jim pulled the chair out to sit in front of the desk where the model he had spent the last 36 months working on resided. It was a plan for a ship he had designed. It had originally been made from sticks but now he had spent his time collecting scraps to make a decent metal model. He pulled out the clamp he had found earlier in the day and opened a drawer. He shuffled around before pulling out a little hinge, staring at the items to regard their compatibility and then placing them to the side to add to the model later. He'd find a spot for them somewhere. His mind wasn't in it right now.

Jim rolled on the chair's wheels to the board covered in papers hung up against the wall. It looked as if he was conducting some sort of investigation, with string lines roped across each evidential piece. It wasn't far from the truth really; his hobby for obtaining information on his 'neighbours' was borderline obsessional, Bones would say. Jim didn't care. It was harmless and he didn't see anything wrong with knowing what he was up against, if the opportunity ever arose. He never did admit, in any corner of his mind that this species fascinated him in the slightest though. It was _all_  paranoia, of course.

With an exhale he lifted himself from the seat and wandered over to his mini library. Most of these books were useless if you were looking for facts - leaking propaganda straight from a Vulcan's ass - but he collected them for reference anyway because it was good to have a second perspective. That was another thing that annoyed Jim. If they were supposed to be based on fact and logic, how could they twist a fucking history book?!

He didn't know, but he didn't know the real facts either. He just knew that it wasn't right. Nothing about those Vulcans ever felt right.

He sat awake for most of the night, piecing together odd facts and adding to the board.

 

The walk from his home to work in the morning was as grueling as it was long. He shimmied over to the shop, exhaling at being out of the wind.

"How ya' been, Jim?"

Jim hooked a finger over the scarf to uncover his face. "Hey Scotty. I been good."

"Boy, this storms a real cracker, ain't it?"

"Yeah, quite bad this year." Jim replied, tying his mustard yellow apron on.

"Do me a favour and give the computer in the back a quick once over for me while I serve the front, would ya' Jim?"

Jim got to work cracking it open. Any stress and tension was removed from his mind instantly as he set himself to rewire the old computer. It was satisfyingly pleasing to fix something, like cleaning dirt from something pristine.

"I think the only time ya' ever pipe down is when ya' got your hands in something electrical." Scotty laughed. Jim looked up and smirked. "Or down a lady's pants, o'course."

Jim had to laugh at the crudeness. "Is there a difference between them?"

"I'd say that if ya' can navigate your way through those wires ya' can navigate your way through her-"

The bell chime of a customer cut him off. Jim stood to pick up the screwdriver by the till.

"Well Scotty, I can say from experience that both scenarios are electrical." He whispered and clapped him on the back before returning to the computer. God, the thing was ancient and a miracle it was still working. A sizzle of sparks made Jim jump.

Well, just about. But it was nothing he couldn't handle.

He preferred being in the back, a technician to the machines rather than conversing with customers at the front desk. Scotty said his magnetic personality was perfect for such a job, but Jim thought he only said that so he could work on the machines himself. Scotty was a bigger technophile than he was.

"Fixed it." He said once he was done. "It was a loose screw-cap. Here, take a look at the state of it." Jim held the damaged piece out for him to see.

Scotty whistled. "That's a bloody disgrace, that is."

"I replaced it with one of the spares we had in storage. You don't mind that I take this broken one, do you?"

Scotty looked confused. "Why would ya' want that? It's useless."

Jim faltered. "I just- I might be able to fix up, you know. Take whatever spare stuff we can get, right?"

Scotty seemed to let that sit with him. "Sure, fine. I was going to bin it anyways."

He pocketed it quickly so it was out of mind. Scott was very smart, but not quite on the same brainwave as Jim.

"How 'bout we go for a drink after our shift?"

Or maybe perhaps they were. " _Yes_ , Scott."

 

Alcohol was quite a difficult substance to come by on a planet that had been taken over by a species impervious to its consumable effects. It was logical. But there were still humans living on the same planet, humans who had centuries and centuries of drinking culture ingrained into them. That being said, the type of beverage made from traditional fermentation was out of the question as those plants would be unable to survive the climate. Vulcans would also see it illogical to go through the trouble to create an environment for the correct malt plants to survive for them to be used for intoxication.

However, humans did need food of some sort and those crops did have some contribution to beverages. Most of the contents of Jim's glass however was highly concentrated ethanol produced from the fermentation of Vulcan plants that should have been used in a hospital somewhere for medicinal purposes. That was one beauty of bars; he never knew where exactly his drink was coming from. But Jim was a little too shit-faced to care. He was so angry, so pent up; he either needed to punch someone or fuck someone and both were looking like viable options. He'd lost Scotty at his second drink, lost his mind at the fourth. Rounding his fifth off and starting to see a couple stars, he felt a light, smooth hand on his forearm.

"Rough day, sweetheart?"

Fucking it was.

 

  
When Jim came to, he wasn't in his house. He dressed and left quickly; still a little groggy, uncoordinated and mostly drunk. Whoever they were - honestly he couldn't differentiate if she actually was a girl or just a really feminine guy and it it didn't matter now, he had a good time regardless - they could worry about him being gone when they woke up. It was still the early hours of the morning before the sun came up. Better to leave now than later.

When he got home, he poured himself a sobering glass of water and climbed out of the upstairs window to sit on the roof. He sipped and watched the sun rise over Shi'Kahr. The light hit its beautiful buildings in all the right places, making the whole circular city gleam in the distance. He watched in both admiration and spite. Eventually when the sun had reached it's midday overhead position and began prickling a burn on the back of Jim's neck, he sobered up.

And he still felt angry.

 

  

* * *

 

 

  
Shi'Kahr was a prosperous city. There was no wonder why it was the capital. Spock had found with fleeting curiosity that he missed his hometown while being away for such an extended period of time- 4 years, 8 months and 12 days to be precise. Then he realised that feeling fondness towards something inanimate was highly illogical and the feeling vanished quickly.

Spock had spent his absence in Vulcana Regar studying in the hopes of being accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy on his return. His father, Sarek, had suggested he needed the extra years to 'better match' other Vulcans' applications since he was at a disadvantage, hence leading to his deferred entry. Spock had protested, trying his hardest not to be offended at his father's lack of faith in his own son's intellect. But the elder had countered with logic, and Spock couldn't argue with logic.

The shuttle landed and Spock took his first steps back in his home town. He was thankful there weren't any severe complications during his flight, as the winter sandstorm was beginning its plough through the Shi'Kahr District. Being on the edge of a desert was a contributing factor. He wondered if living in the original Shikahr on the original Vulcan planet would make any difference to the weather. Maybe he would be able to experience it first hand if he was accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy. There could never be two of those. Moving to the original Vulcan to study there was his end goal.

Climate modifiers were amazing pieces of machinery, Spock thought. They could change entire planets' ecosystems to a completely different biosphere. It was like a projection of Vulcan on Earth, down to the shape of the grains of sand. With the modifiers posted both deep in the ground and high in the air, they were constantly altering its meteorology to make another Vulcan sixteen light years away.

Colonisation was the way forward.

 

  
"Oh, Spock!"

"It is good to see you again, Mother."

When she rushed forwards with her arms open, Spock would have melted into the embrace as he used to. Instead her warmth felt a little alien (so to speak) to him. The time away might have changed his perspective on the necessity for intimacy. But because his mother was undoubtedly human she required the need for such interaction, so he allowed it to slide on the basis of logic.

"I'm pleased to see you, Brother."

His older half-brother mirrored his step-mother, gripping Spock in an extended hug. That was an embrace Spock could not have prepared himself for if he had an eternity to do so; there was no logic, no reason for Sybok - the full-Vulcan! - to have fully trapped Spock within his arms, yet he had still done so. Spock tried to mask his scandalised expression as they parted.

"As I am to see you, Sybok." His tone didn't remain neutral and instead went up at the end as if were a question.

"Your father is at a discussion with the Council. He'll arrive for dinner soon."

Spock's expression quickly hardened. "Understandable."

He didn't miss the way his mother's eyebrows openly furrowed. He never did like drawing that particular response from her.

"I trust you had a decent journey back?" Sybok asked as they made their way from the main hall to one of the sitting quarters.

"Yes. Though the outer edge of the Shi'Kahr district seems to be suffering from the storms, the city is prosperous."

"Ah, yes. The sandfire storms will be soon upon us."

The conversation had dulled down by the time Sarek had arrived for dinner.

"My apologies for arriving late. The council had extended their discussion for another 13.8 minutes." He offered as he took his seat at the end of the table opposite his wife. His tone was slightly harder and more directed than Spock had remembered hearing it, and he cast a dubious glance around the table to see how the others reacted. His mother looked sympathetic but knowing. Sybok however, seemed almost guilty. After he had gotten past the blatant openness his half-brother was displaying, Spock thought it strange. Why would Sybok have any responsibility towards their father's unpunctuality?

"That's alright, Sarek. Food has only just been served." Spock inferred from the way his mother spoke that she was well aware of the content that had discussed at the Council meeting, which was irregular as other Vulcans, let alone Humans, outside the Council were never given any information. He theorised it had something to do with his family then. He looked across the table at Sybok, who had his eyes fixed firmly on his plate.

There was a tense air, that his mother cut through with a chirp. "So, Spock. Tell us about how your studies have been."

Spock saw his father sit up a little straighter from the corner of his eye at the turn in conversation. "My experiences have been varied and informative. I have learned a great many things alongside my studies."

"Such as?"

Spock inhaled. "Hand-to-hand combat."

There was a pregnant pause. Spock was sure he saw Sybok smirk. 

"And the need for such training?" Sarek was impassively smooth.

"It is logical to acquire skills from a range of different sectors. I was merely increasing my knowledge." Spock batted, as if he had practiced the lines to perfection. 

There was another pause. "And how go the teaching methods in Vulcana Regar?"

"They have been satisfactory."

"Just satisfactory?"

Spock cleared his throat. "I was implying that compared to the extensive dexterity of the study pattern in the Shi'Kahr, it was undoubtably so."

Sarek got the hint. His son may as well have screamed  _why did you send me away?!_

"And so," Spock continued. "I have decided to finish the final year at the Shi'Kahr Academy. It will be most beneficial for me to do so."

Sarek was quiet, stretching out a moment to swallow another mouthful of his food before agreeing. "Yes, it will."

Spock barely contained his shock. He had already prepared a heavy stack of statistics to back up his argument, based on a whole year of analysing success rates in applications from both schools. He was not expecting his father to agree on opinion.

Sensing this, Sarek elaborated. "It would be most beneficial for you to stay here for the remainder of your studies. Perhaps it will enlighten you on what you have missed in your absence."

There again was the directing tone, and Spock looked over at Sybok once more. His half-brother shifted very very slightly in his seat.

Spock's brows furrowed and he didn't even try and prevent himself. "Is there an issue of some kind? I can feel something is amiss." He looked around the table at expressionless faces, even his mother's.

"Spock..." she began, finally cracking, not as steeled as the three Vulcans.

"Amanda." Sarek had stated, effectively cutting her off. "A discussion of such will not be conducted at dinner."

"Sarek." She said, angrily. "I wont stand for this. Not with Spock coming home. I won't. This needs to be worked out and done quickly because I can't find it in me like you to smother over things that are clear as day!" She chocked back tears as she pushed back her seat, leaving the table behind.

" _T'hy'la_." Sarek called, but didn't make any attempt to go after her. Spock looked over at his father. His expression was steely. Never had he heard Sarek call her that in front of him or anyone else before.

"I wish to be excused." Sybok stated, standing up and walking to retire to his own quarters.

There was silence apart from his quickened footsteps. Spock, unwilling to be sat alone with his father, excused himself as well.

He decided after some deliberation to seek out his mother. She was undoubtedly upset, and maybe he could find out why. She needed comfort of some kind, and the two Vulcans weren't going to be the ones to give any. Maybe it was the half-human in him. Maybe it was just decency.

"Mother?"

He knocked but the door was open and he let himself in. She smiled at him beside herself, and shifted in her chair to face him. Wiping her tears, she sighed. "Sit down Spock, you know I hate looking up at you. When did you get so big?"

Spock loosened his tight stance and brought his arms in front of him, crouching beside her chair so she could look down at him.

"This is the one thing I didn't want to happen today. I wanted you to be welcomed home properly." Amanda patted his head affectionately. Her expression was distant.

"What happened, mother?"

The question brought her out of it. "Despite how he presents himself, your father is... stressed. He is a Vulcan and one of the most proud. The most stubborn." She sighed. "Your brother is having some difficulties. He's made some new friends; I think he might just be mixing with the wrong crowd, oh, I don't know." She hissed from frustration. "Just please, Spock. Please look out for him. Being him back on the right path, promise me. If anyone can do it, it's you." Her eyes shined with both sadness and simultaneous hope. Human emotion was most complex.

"I promise." He vowed, and he meant it with ever fiber of Vulcan - and human - being.

 

 


	2. The Flask At Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {{Spite}}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warnings and rating has been updated. There will not be trigger warnings before every chapter - unless I think they're necessary like non-con or self-harm ect - so bare that in mind when reading, and have a lovely day :)

 

"Scotty, it was just a couple drinks."

"Just a couple. My arse."

"I didn't purposely mean to leave you, it just kind of happened."

"And that's how most of ya' sexual encounters occur, right?"

Jim laughed. He knew Scotty wasn't really mad, he was just messing around.

"Next time I'll introduce you, alright?"

Their conversation was interrupted by a chime of someone entering the shop. Scotty stood up quickly.

"Ya' know, I just remembered I have to fix the shelf in the back, ya' got this, right Jim?" He wiggled his eyebrows as he made his way to the back.

Scotty knew there wasn't anything he disliked more. "Scotty, Scotty, wait." Jim hissed. With a salute, Scotty disappeared behind the door.

Jim groaned and turned back to the counter with a strained smile on his face. "Scotty's Repairs. How can I help you?"

The man in front of him was young. His face had a wink of soon-to-be handsome features under its immaturity, like a caterpillar in a cocoon waiting to emerge as a butterfly. Jim was a little envious that the lack of proper nutrition and harsh climate hadn't yet affected him.

"I have something I'd like to have looked at." He said, quiet.

"Sure. What's the problem with it? Is it broken?"

"Not quite." He smiled. "More like, it wasn't quite working in the first place."

He pulled out a small techno cube from the pocket of his duster coat and placed it on the desk. Jim picked it up with interest, rotating it in his hands carefully. "This doesn't look like anything I've ever seen before. The parts look relatively late 21st century. Where did you get it?"

"I made it."

Jim raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Well, there's not much _I_ can help you with then. Um, what exactly is it?"

There was an almost cocky smirk on the man's face. "It's an indefinite power supply. It's small obviously, a proper one would be large enough to generate electricity for the entire settlement. This one is just a plan, it would probably only be able to power a single house."

Jim was astonished. "Jesus kid, how old are you?"

"20." The boy continued with a laugh. "It uses the electrical currents produced in the sandfire storms. Maybe if we can use the disadvantageous climate to our own advantage, we can generate a constant supply of electricity." The boy explained with a wave of his hand.

"Constant?" Jim began nitpicking the idea. He wasn't being a jerk, he was consolidating. "Sandfire storms are limited to the winter. We'd only get electricity for half the year."

"A small hurdle. With a storage device attached, the energy can be harvested and used all year round." There was something seemingly Vulcan about the way the boy spoke, the sheer genius of him. But with his arrogant tone, his young features, there was no mistaking: he was definitively human. And Jim felt pride, for some unexplainable reason.

"I'm impressed, kid." Jim nodded approvingly. "Where did you learn your stuff?"

"Self-taught. My parents were engineers, before..." he trailed off, but he didn't need to finish. Jim understood. He felt the need to comfort him, but instead he quickly changed the subject.

"So you're here because it's not quite working, right?" Maintaining his professionalism.

"Theory is a little complicated to put into practice. Especially being inexperienced." He chuckled, and some vulnerability crossed his features.

"Well lucky for you, I have experience in projects like this. Well not exactly like this - what I do is child's play compared to this." Jim thought of his toy-like starship model made from tin scraps. "But I'm sure I can do something. I'm Jim, by the way."

"Sam."

Jim stopped almost dead in his tracks. No, no. He couldn't. He couldn't think about that now.

"Nice to meet you... Sam."

His brother was gone. Long gone. 6ft under the sand. It was just a coincidence. Someone up there hated him.

"If you leave it with me, I'll get on the task." He said dismissively. "You don't mind if I keep it for now?"

"I have six more at home."

Jim's thoughts were so distracted he didn't hear the hum of a shuttle his ears were usually so finely tuned to.

The door chime went again and both humans looked over at the new visitor. Jim boiled.

The Vulcan took slow calculated steps towards the counter, observing Jim carefully.

"Can I help you?"

"A routine check." The Vulcan said flatly. He wasn't wearing traditional robes but instead a grey uniform. An officer. "You are used to this by now." He stated.

That didn't mean Jim liked it. His eyes bore into the back of the officer's head as he surveyed the shop. Slowly Jim's hand tightened around the techno cube when he remembered its presence. Very carefully, he slid it into his own pocket. He didn't want the Vulcan to see it. Sam looked over at him with interest. Subtly, Jim gestured for him to remain quiet and he did, with further interest.

"Anything you're looking for?" Jim let spite overturn his voice. That was Jim's polite way of telling him to get the fuck out.

The Vulcan turned to him with pristine superiority. "I have been informed this particular establishment has been visited by a routine officer 34 times in the last 12 months. Are you not by now accustomed to compulsory checks?"

Jim scowled. He didn't need this.

"Compulsory check or not, this is an electrical appliance repair shop, and highly unlikely to be anything of considerable note to Vulcans, being as 'well developed' as they are." The boy surprised Jim by saying. Jim was floored again. The way he spoke was mocking and sarcastic, radiating distaste.

Scotty appeared at the doorway. "Oh, hello. Jim, ya' didn't inform me-" he almost hissed, like he was disappointing a guest. "Is there anything I can help ya' with?"

The Vulcan looked from Sam, to Jim, to Scott. His face was blank. "Routine check." He said again.

"He was just leaving." Jim added quickly, earning a nudge from Scotty.

"Indeed. The checks have been concluded." The Vulcan officer finalised, and turned on his heels. "Live long as prosper." He nodded, and left.

"Jim, why were ya' so rude to him?" Scotty asked, but Jim rolled his eyes and didn't answer. He found that's Sam's expression mirrored one similar to his own.

"Well," The boy inhaled finally. "I'll leave the little project with you then. It was very... interesting to meet you, Jim." He swiftly left after a firm handshake.

"You too." He nodded and meant it. It wasn't often he met people like that.

 

  
The lack of water in his home meant Jim was going to have to venture out to the well to get some because he sure as Hell was not skipping another shower today. He wasn't a clean freak so a little sweat never bothered him, but when it got to a point were he could literally scrape a layer of dirt off his skin with his fingernails... yes, it was safe to say he needed one badly.

Butler had fallen asleep on his mat, so Jim had to leave him behind. He was probably dehydrated, the poor soul. Jim poured out the last scoop of water from the canister into his little doggy bowl. He could wait till after he collected some for himself; he was fine for now. Did brandy count as suitable hydration? He set his hip-flask anyway for the journey. Wrapping his scarf around his neck to keep off the sun, he made his way off into the desert.

The sun burned away on his uncovered forearms where the sleeves of his three-quarter shirt stopped. Jim was sure he was close to looking like someone had put him back together with another set of arms because of the difference in tan; the skin darker where the sun got a chance to lick at. He readjusted the empty canister on his back. It was going to be even harder to carry home when it was full.

He stopped, heaving. God, he felt old sometimes, even though he was only touching 26. The brandy filled hip-flask unhooked itself from his belt with his brain having little conversation with his arm muscles. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He brought it to his mouth and drank, feeling parched. The shiny metal gleamed in his eyes as he raised it, making him wince. Squinting, he lowered it and replaced it on his belt. The glare didn't move and he brought his hand up to cover his eyes. That wasn't his hip-flask metal blinding him...

Jim looked ahead and saw the dazzling beam was in fact reflecting off a metal panel in the sand. He inched closer and picked it up, inspecting it. Maybe it could be useful scrap for his model. It had jagged edges, as if it had been ripped out. The metal was pristine; no weathering, no rust. Hell, it was polished. It was _new_.

An uneasy feeling began settling in his stomach. This wasn't right. Jim looked around the sand, noticing metal scraps and parts strewn around, not even buried. It would have been paradise for Jim - he never got this lucky - until he saw the wreckage 10 meters ahead.

"Holy shit." He whispered.

Jim removed the water canister on his back and walked his way over to it. It was a Vulcan shuttle. The body was smashed in like it took a beating. Half of the circuits were on the outside of it, and most of the axles were badly damaged. And that was just on the outside.

Jim almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the Vulcan pilot still strapped in the driver's seat. He wasn't moving.

He edged closer. The Vulcan clearly wasn't alive, there was green evidence spilled everywhere. Jim recognised him as the officer who had entered the shop earlier in the day.

"Poor bastard." He tutted. There wasn't anything Jim could do for him now. He raised his hip-flask before he took another swig from pity.

The officer's uniform was covered in his blood, but that wasn't what caught Jim's attention. It was the jagged metal pole sticking out of his neck. He'd been stabbed by a broken piece of the ship. It was pretty brutal.

What the fuck? Jim's brows furrowed in confusion. That didn't make any sense.

The sound of multiple shuttles thundered overhead.

"Shit." Jim whispered. Patrol vehicles. Jim, being Human and stood next to a potentially murdered Vulcan, looked extremely suspicious. It wouldn't take a logical being to work that one out. It was too late to run now, and all he could do was smile and wave at them as they landed.

"Afternoon, officers. It's a lovely day."

"You are being requested to come without struggle into the shuttle hanger to accompany us to the city. We will use force if necessary."

Well, shit. He was _Fucked_ with a capital F.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Spock woke slowly the next morning, so had 3.2 minutes of extra sleep then his usual night. He felt (almost) sluggish.

His face was wet as he sat up from his bed. His fingers touched the skin tentatively before roughly scrubbing away any evidence. Other Vulcans didn't have tear ducts.

He could still feel the salty residue on his cheeks so he decided to shower to fully wash himself _clean_.

Spock then meditated for 16.8 minutes, cutting it 3.2 minutes shorter so he wouldn't be late for the first meal of the day. This was why it was important to arise in his usual routine or his entire scheduled day would be thrown off. One would do wisely to start the day right.

Today was to consist of a walk around the city to familiarise himself with all its hotspots. Sybok was also having an outing with his friends, and if Spock just so happened to see him at every location, it was entirely... coincidence. Spock did _not_ organise his day to fit around keeping an eye on his brother because his mother asked him to. That was highly impractical and unproductive.

Yet here he was, taking careful glances across the city park fountain while looking as if he was being particularly attentive in reading his PADD. Sybok was sat with his friends on a park bench opposite.

They conversed in a typically orderly manner, leading Spock to hypothesize two outcomes. One; that they were doing so because of the openness of the public setting and the probability they would be seen acting disorderly in a busy centre was significantly high. Or two; Sybok's friends were not the cause of his behavioural changes, and the root problem was in fact stemming from himself. Though Spock feared them both, the latter would have much more severe consequences.

Within a few minutes they stood from the bench and began walking north, Spock following a covert distance behind. It was around three minutes of stalking later that Sybok took a fleeting look in Spock's general direction and suddenly Spock found the patterns in the pathway very interesting to look at. He wasn't quite casual enough, and his brother noticed him. He walked over to him after excusing himself from his friends.

"If you were trying to be furtive, Spock, you failed."

Spock tried not to look too ruffled. "I must suffice, my skill of surveillance isn't a strong suit."

"Let's hope it won't need to be developed. To put it bluntly you were spying on me, Spock, weren't you? Did Father ask you to do this?"

"No." He responded.

Sybok cast a glance over his younger brother. "We will discuss this further in private." Spock looked over to his circle of friends who were observing them carefully.

"As you wish." Spock concluded and made his way home.

 

 

When Sybok arrived at home 1.2 hours later, Spock was admiring the new piece of artwork his mother had hung in the hallway.

"I suppose you are going to request an explanation."

Spock turned to face his brother. Their difference in height wasn't as apparent anymore. 

"That would suggest that there is an explanation you are required to give." Spock batted. 

Sybok didn't even blink. "Come into my quarters."

Spock followed. 

"Your time away may make this difficult for you to come to grips with. But as you can clearly tell, there have been many changes in the house." Sybok began. "It started when I underwent  _pon farr._ "

Spock's eyebrows nearly hit the ceiling. This was a subject never ever spoken about unless absolutely necessary. Sybok had said them like they were nothing.  He tried to quickly compose himself, finding it difficult with the tinge of green blooming his skin in a full-body blush of shame.

Sybok noticed. "Yes, I know it isn't the most comfortable of subjects to discuss."

Spock cleared his throat, wanting to get the information out of him quickly to finish this conversation. His skin was prickling. "You have undergone _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_  then?" Spock felt a little disappointed he had not been present at his own brother's union ceremony in which close friends of the betrothed are invited. 

"I did not."

Spock felt himself taken aback again. "But your mate, your betrothed; T-Ling-"

"We did not undergo the ceremony, or consummate our bond. We did not mate."

Spock was confused. This... was unheard of. "How then, did you survive the changes of  _pon farr_?" If Vulcans felt fear, Spock would say that it was the only thing they feared most. Spock hoped that due to his human heritage he would be spared.  

Sybok looked almost pleased with himself. "The Council was most interested in this matter too. My meditation techniques are quite efficient." 

Was Sybok... lying to him? No, it couldn't be; it wasn't possible. It must be some form of humour he couldn't understand.

"Does this explain the Council meeting?" Of course, surviving  _pon farr_ without mating was unheard of, obviously a matter of interest to the Council.

Sybok lips twitched in a small smile. "You have inferred."

"A simple deduction from several valid events." Spock explained himself. "As you are aware, our family dinner yesterday evening was quite eventful."

Sybok exhaled loudly. "Since this phenomenon the council have been particularly watchful over the family, to father's distaste. I have found great interest in Vulcan history and the Council have thought it necessary to intervene."

"Your explanation is vague." Spock stated. "If you can consider that an explanation. The matter is still unexplained."

"That is all I am willing to reveal. The rest is my affair." He said quickly and gruffly. "Another important anecdote to the issues surrounding dinner yesterday was that I also told father I did not want to attend the Vulcan Expeditionary Group. This obviously didn't help matters between us."

Was there a limit on how many times Sybok would shock him in the span of one day? Spock's eyes widened. It was Spock's dream to be part of the Expeditionary Group. It was the reason he wanted to be trained at the Vulcan Science Academy. "What do you intend to do instead?"

"That is irrelevant information at the present time. Father's reaction has obviously caused a further rift between us, catalysed by the Council incidents that previously surrounded my _pon farr_. As of late, he has been continually judgmental of my actions."

Spock knew how that felt. "You know the situation surrounding our family is already difficult one when it comes to the Vulcan Council." Spock referred to the mixed-extended family they were living in. "I am not suggesting you deter from the path you believe you want to go, but I advise for you to be mindful on how this must affect him." Spock logically understood his father's position, people constantly looking down on him for his choices.

"It is hardly my fault that he chose such an boisterous path himself and expected to be treated with respect." His voice hissed with anger. "It is hypocritical to blame me for choosing one."

"I understand your thought pattern but you must control yourself, Sybok." Spock urged. Spock knew that Sybok's mother was against a lot of what the great Surak proposed after the Time of Awakening; the traditions and values Vulcans still held today. Spock knew a lot of what she believed was taken in by Sybok before she died, and coming to live with his father who had married a Human and had a half-human child while still following traditional culture was rather ironic. 

"I am in complete control of _my_  emotions, Spock." Sybok stated with his tone pointed. "I suggest you should take your own advice."

 

 

Spock felt unsettled, and after wasting his time attempting to read from his PADD when he couldn't concentrate on the words, he decided to meditate.

He sat on his bench, folding his hands in the respective position. An hour may have passed before he heard the bench creak and dip as someone joined him, breaking his out of focus. He peeked open his eyes. It was his father, mirroring his position. They sat still and continued meditating for some time but Spock was certain it was for the same reason. The issue surrounding Sybok was troubling in the least. But it was peaceful to be able to sit with his father without conversation or tradition, just silence and presence. It was as close to tranquility as Spock ever got.

Eventually they broke away back to reality.

"Father." He inclined his head, acknowledging him.

"Spock." Sarek did the same. "How have you found returning to Shi'Kahr?"

"It has been settling enough. I find it strange to observe that I am home, and I had forgotten its beauty."

Sarek scratched his chin. "Perhaps it is because of what you have missed."

Spock tilted his head. "I suppose so."

"The Shi'Kahr Academy have accepted you as a senior student despite your late start?"

"Yes. The informant arrived this morning."

"Most excellent. The Vulcan Science Academy will no doubt be next once you receive the qualifications, and after that, the Vulcan Expeditionary Group."

"Yes, father." He thought of Sybok, and felt a little pressure pulling heavy on his shoulders.

Sarek opened his mouth to speak. He hesitated briefly, before quickly redeeming himself. "How would you find it to come to work with me today?"

Spock was a little taken aback by the offer. "That would be..." He was about to say enjoyable. "...a more productive use of the day then being at home."

"And perhaps also a valuable experience; a Human has been brought into the city."

"On what regards?" Spock couldn't deny his intrigue. Maybe it was the Human in him. It was very rare such an incident occurred, but with one of Sarek's roles being to observe and understand Human behaviour, he was always on the scene.

"He is being put on trial for the murder of Officer Sthrak."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me something to let me know what you think :)


	3. Hanger Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {{Anger}}

 

"I grieve with thee."

Spock had never met Officer Sthrak, so he didn't feel loss at his death, but that didn't mean he was inhuman - pun intended.

"His body will be cleaned and buried tomorrow." Sarek informed. "The suspect is being held in the hanger for questioning." They walked together to the hanger, their steps in time. They nodded at Sarek's passing co-workers before opening the door into the hanger. The chamber containing the suspect was sealed off by one-way reflective glass.

Spock surprised himself at being startled by how distinctively _human_  he was; slumped on the chair holding him, a pair of cuffs keeping his hands on the table. His skin was golden, his eyes a deep blue.

Spock and Sarek watched him through the one-way window as he responded to each question from the interrogator.

"You are proposing that you found Sthrak dead?"

"Yeah."

"According to the evidence piling up against you that is not the case."

"What evidence?" The man's brow furrowed. The was a sudden contortion of facial expression and a deeper shift in his tone of voice. It was anger and confusion. "There's no evidence!"

"You were found at the scene of the crime-"

"I was collecting water! Go back there and you'll find my canister."

"A reasonable alibi."

"Are you kidding me? He crashed his ship! For all we know he could've been impaled when he landed." The man gestured with his hands, rattling the cuffs.

"There are two errors in your statement." The interrogator began. "First, Vulcans are not known for having accidents. Officer Sthrak was a highly experienced pilot. The likelihood of him crashing on his own accord is statistically insignificant."

"What, no numbers pulled out of your ass for this one?" The man countered. Spock was confused. Was that satire?

"1 out of 146." The interrogator backfired. "Secondly," he continued, "Even if this was the case, which it may be so, the percentage chance of a piece of sophisticated Vulcan machinery impaling Sthrak on crash landing was calculated to 9.82 percent. Vulcan shuttles are built to collapse on impact, not shatter."

"Oh wow, how about that? Another reason your race is amazing and I'm the savage who brutally murdered him."

"We have further evidence of ethanol intoxication-"

Sarek turned to Spock as the interrogator continued. "What are your observations?"

Oh. Spock had been a little distracted. He reeled something off quickly. "He uses anger as a defence mechanism. It is most intriguing." Spock watched with interest as the man got more and more annoyed. He couldn't understand why; all the human was being asked to do was answer the questions directly, but the responses were indeed drawing an irritated response.

"Let us speak with him."

Spock watched the human's eyes turn to him as the door to the hanger slid open.

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Jim was having a really shit day. After being thrown around a shuttle and dragged across the city, he was now being accused of murder. Not only that, but he was surrounded by Vulcans and their insufferable mannerisms.

He really wanted to go home, get drunk and pass out. Hell, he'd even pick not waking up over this.

Jim was beyond pissed now. "This is the last time I'm going to say it-"

The hanger door slid open, effectively cutting Jim off.

Two more Vulcans walked in; an older one and a younger one.

"We'll take it from here."

The interrogator got up and left - thank God - and the older man who spoke took his place in the chair across from him.

"I am Ambassador Sarek. This is my son Spock."

Jim's eyes lingered on the younger one, who was stood rigidly straight behind his father's chair with his hands behind his back. Did all Vulcans do that? He took another quick second to look at him. No, there was something off about him, something different.

"You are James Tiberius Kirk, is that correct?"

He looked back at Sarek. "Yeah."

"I study human behaviour. I am not part of any of the investigation. I can assure you that your responses are now being noted for research purposes only, not to be used against you."

Jim was apprehensive. "And what's to gain from this research?"

"Well Mr. Kirk, purposes of science, more knowledge-"

"Yeah, yeah, nerd stuff. Got it." Jim interrupted.

The stance of the younger Vulcan tightened and Jim looked over him again. What was his deal?

"You got a problem, G.I Joe?"

The young Vulcan blinked twice.

"That was a joke, you stand like a-"

"I am well aware of the reference, Mr. Kirk, and the human perimeters of offensive humour. I can confirm I have no problems with you at the present time, though I cannot say about later."

Jim raised his eyebrows. "God, it speaks."

"However," Spock pressed. "I will not tolerate any name other than Mr. Spock."

"Sure, princess."

There were a tense few seconds where Jim and Spock stared each other down. Jim noticed his eyes. There were Vulcan-brown, but they weren't Vulcan-empty. Sarek's eyes were devoid, but Spock's were _full_. Full of struggle barely hidden under the surface. He had never seen such a fierce internal struggle before, not in any Vulcan, not even in himself. It was hypnotic.

Sarek cut in. "Now, regarding the crime you are accused of-"

"Look, I'm telling you, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." He interrupted again. He just really wanted this over with.

"That probability of such an occurrence is less then 4 percent." Spock looked almost pleased with himself.

Jim sighed angrily. He'd really love to pummel his smug face into the ground. "Well it was just my bad luck."

"Luck doesn't exist, Mr. Kirk. It is a human superstition. I think you'll find that chance cannot change its preference from one individual to another."

"Are you done?" Jim scoffed.

Sarek spoke again. "However slim the chances, a chance is still a chance. As I was attempt to tell you before your interruption, have decided to represent you in front of the high council for your trial."

Spock looked scandalised. "Father-"

"He cannot have a trial without defence. As Ambassador and a lead researcher for human behaviour, it is only logical for me to do so." Sarek raised a hand to counter anything his son was about to say.

Jim leaned back in his chair with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Well, princess. Looks like you're stuck with me."

Spock's eye twitched viciously.

"We cannot base a defence purely on 'bad luck'." Sarek spoke before another argument broke out. "Do you know of any witnesses?"

"Witnesses are not a reliable source of evidence." Spock muttered.

Jim chose to ignore him, the opportunity for him to get the fuck out of here finally starting to look up. "Scotty! I work in Scotty's shop. Montgomery Scott. He was there when the guy came to the shop."

"Search for Montgomery Scott in the database." Sarek directed his son. Jim was glad he was finally doing something useful instead of shooting his Vulcan mouth off.

"And Bones. I mean, Leonard McCoy. He can be a character witness, right? Tell the council what kind of person I am?"

"Not sufficient to convince, but evidence nonetheless." Spock commented as he typed into the PADD and Jim looked over to him with annoyance. His prissiness was really starting to piss him off.

"How about _you_  be my character witness then?"

"If I were to do such a thing, I'm afraid the Vulcan Council may throw away the key."

"There was another witness too. Sam." He remembered, ignoring Spock's insults completely. "I don't know his last name. He's 20."

There were a few moments of aggressive typing on the PADD.

"Sam Ren, 20 years of age, son of Kyle and Carol Ren, a clinic assistant and a teacher. Is this information correct?" Spock asked.

"No, his parents are dead. They were engineers." Jim racked his brain.

There was some more aggressive typing. It stretched out a little longer this time.

"Sam Furend, 20 years of age, son of engineers Harry and Lisa Furend, both deceased." Spock read from the screen.

"That sounds right."

"As Spock was saying, witnesses alone may not be sufficient to convince the council. We are beings of science." Jim kept his eyes on Sarek and refused to look over at Spock, knowing he's have that stupid smug Vulcan all-knowing look on his face. Bastard. "Is there any tangible evidence of scientific nature that may aid you?"

Jim tried to rack his brain. His hands shifted on the table, making his cuffs rattle. He didn't miss the way Spock's eyes were instantly drawn to them, effectively distracting him from his PADD. _Funny_ , thought Jim. _The quiet ones are always the kinky ones_.

"Anything remotely science-y I usually leave to Bones."

"Ah, the physician. This is beneficial. He can provide us with your medical."

"Good luck with that. The last one I took was at least two years ago."

Spock's face almost crumpled in disgust, but he didn't say anything.

"Then you will have to provide one." Sarek concluded.

Jim would've jumped from the seat if he could. "Woah there, there's a reason it's been two years, I'm not doing a medical." Jim's worry wasn't in his health, he knew he was healthy. He just hated people probing around him. In fact his biggest worry was having an STD (he caught one before, never again). They were very common in deprived places and Jim used protection wherever he could but when his dick got as much as it did on a regular basis, it was always a worry. And Bones being the only medical practitioner in the settlement was a turn off. Hell, he'd rather die than have Bones tell him he contracted something. One time was emotionally scarring enough.

"Then I'm sorry to tell you the likelihood of being found innocent is less than 11 percent without physical evidence." Spock said, though he didn't sound the slightest bit sorry. He was enjoying this. What an ass.

Jim heaved. "Fine."

"Perhaps if we can also provide the good doctor with the machinery for a brain scan, it will give us a thorough psychological assessment." Spock spoke again.

"Why the fuck do you need to see in my brain?" Jim quipped. He didn't want his Vulcan tech anywhere near him.

Spock inhaled. "What I was suggesting is that the scan would show no abnormal brain activity correlating with that of murderers with mental deterioration and psychopathic tendencies. However, I'm beginning to think I may need to rebuke this proposal."

"Are you calling me crazy?" He batted.

"I believe I just said that, Mr. Kirk."

"This would also provide stable evidence, Spock." Sarek finalised. "We have the basis for a stable defence. This concludes our meeting for the day. Your court date is tomorrow." Sarek stood from the chair.

"What?! What the fuck am I supposed to do till then?" Jim though he'd be out of here by now. If he spent another minute he might _actually_  go batshit crazy. Spock would love that.

"You will remain in custody as you are still the suspect of an indictable offence."

"Oh, great."

 

It wasn't the first time Jim had to sleep in a cell, but it was the first time he had to sleep in a _Vulcan_ cell. The mattress was so hard he was sure it was made out of rock. He shifted uncomfortably, unable to sleep. The healing stitches on his shoulder complained. It didn't help that he'd spent the entire day in cuffs, pulling the muscles in his back.

Jim looked down. For an inexplicable reason, he was suddenly aware he was hard.

"What..." Jim sighed, completely done with himself. Out of everything he pulled today, this was the highlight.

Jim settled a hand on his bare stomach and breathed. It was just the tension. He was too wound up. Or maybe it was the thought of spending the day in cuffs. Maybe _he_ was the kinky one.

He hissed, withdrew his hand. The thought of that idiot Vulcan came to mind. No, he was not going to think about a Vulcan right _now_.

Too bad, he thought. Imagine having to explain to Bones that he pulled a stitch while _jacking off_. That, and to a Vulcan. If it didn't disgust Jim so much it would be hilarious.

He sighed, the though of his friend and Vulcans enough to put him off anything remotely sexy. Jim tried to shift again, but he couldn't move. Shit, he thought, it would've been a good idea to sleep with a shirt on, but it was too damn hot. He shifted and let out a painful grunt. Fuck. His stitches had caught on the woven fabric of the mattress.

"Fuck's sake." He breathed, knowing it wasn't going to be good but it was going to happen one way or another. "One, two, three-"

He inhaled and turned quickly and there was a painful rip. He screamed.

 

At least one good thing had come out of ripping open his back; that said idiot Vulcan was staring at Jim from outside the cell with pure spite for having his sleep cycle disrupted. Jim smiled victoriously, before nearly crippling in pain.

Spock had a bag of supplies in his hand. "I have been told a doctor was sent." He stood, looking at Jim with a disappointed face that resembled a parent picking up a naughty child from the principal's office thinking 'what have you done now?' 

"Unfortunately, the sight of my body was a little too much to handle and he had to be sent home." Jim cracked.

Spock very nearly rolled his eyes. "The differences in our physiology do pose a problem. Due to Ambassador Sarek's knowledge of  humans he would have been your doctor."

"Where is he then?" Jim commented on the lack of the older Vulcan's presence. 

"Ambassador Sarek was unable to come as he was mid-meditation. I couldn't disturb him." Spock said, seething. "However, I am a suitable replacement." 

Despite his masked expressionless face, Spock looked tired. His eyes were shadowed and a little puffy. And Jim knew he was extremely pissed to be dragged out of bed and across the city to the hanger in the dead of night for a human and his stupidity. Jim was pleased in himself.

"Oh lucky me." Jim smiled, despite the blood covering him and most of the mattress, and his shoulder practically calling it quits. He grunted in pain again.

When Spock entered the cell Jim noticed he wore a robe that was simple and less formal than the one he wore earlier in the day. Then he realised they were his sleep robes.

"Nice pyjamas." Jim dug at him, despite himself.

Spock placed his instruments on the table beside the bed, taking a seat behind Jim where he sat. "It amazes me that you still have the energy for slander despite your current condition."

"What can I say, I'm a pretty amazing guy."

"I have several valid arguments against that statement." He put on gloves to examine him. Jim jumped away.

"I'm not having your Vulcan hands anywhere near me."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Then you can bleed out for all I care, it seems you are doing a fine job at it already." He motioned to the waterfall of red down Jim's back. "Or perhaps infection sounds more appealing to you."

"I mean it." Jim tried to argue but his shoulder was paining him and he couldn't deny he needed it looked at. "If an actual doctor couldn't do it, what makes you think you're qualified?"

"I have studied changing first aid techniques though history. I am also well knowledged in humans, and have accompanied my father on some days of his work in my youth." Spock almost sighed at the irrationality. "But I did not lose sleep to come here and argue. I am not enjoying this at all, believe me I would much rather be asleep."

"Why are you here then?" Jim sat down on the bed, still fighting even when he was giving up.

"It is for my father's sake, not yours." Spock joined him, sitting behind Jim again so he could examine. "Frankly, I couldn't care less if you were found guilty or not, but I am supportive of my father's decision to represent you."

Jim scoffed. "Reassuring."

He touched at the cut, making Jim hiss. There was a heat coming from his fingers even through the gloves.

"I cannot regenerate the tissue as this is not a fresh wound. It has already begun its process of healing, and has been aided by another surgical procedure." Spock referred to the stitches left behind. "I will have to follow this method." Spock picked up a hooked needle and thread. "These are Vulcan fibres. They won't tear and will dissolve into the body."

Jim cursed. "You're just finding any excuse to enjoy sticking a sharp needle in me for waking you up, aren't you?"

"I can not disagree with your statement."

Once he sterilised the needle, Spock started sewing.

"Jesus, my skin isn't as thick as yours! Take it easy!"

"I am well aware of the differences in skin thickness." He continued with the same vigour.

"Can I get some pain relief? Jeez."

There was a pause. "It seems I have misplaced the anesthetic."

"Oh I bet you have. Bastard." Jim muttered the last part.

Every now and then, he soaked the sponge in a bowl of water to clean his wound. Jim watched the water as it was squeezed and trickled back into the bowl. Funny, that was got him in this situation in the first place.

"Relax your shoulder. You are making it difficult to work."

Jim hadn't realised he'd been tensing. 

"Sorry for being such an inconvenience." His voice became edged and sharp. He sighed angrily, as if he suddenly remembered himself. "That's all humans are to you, right? Just a big inconvenience on this planet. I hate your race."

If Spock was surprised or offended, he didn't make it apparent. "I'd be mindful of your words, Mr. Kirk. One might think you would be capable of murder."

"Are you saying you think I did it?"

Spock continued sewing. "The evidence does suggest so."

Jim felt bold. "And that doesn't scare you, knowing that you're alone with me in a cell?"

There was a beat before he answered. "I am well aware of our proximity, Mr. Kirk. Vulcans do not feel fear." He paused then started talking again. "I know you didn't do it."

Jim's brows furrowed. "How?"

"Because a human couldn't have overpowered a Vulcan. You would be incapable." He said it like it was nothing, like humans were ants under his boot.

Jim flared. "There's more to us than you think. We aren't primitive."

"I have yet to be shown that." Spock said snootily as he finished sewing. If Jim wasn't injured he would've punched him right in the face.

"I hate the way you act with your superiority, like you're better. You aren't better."

"Perhaps you aren't aware that Vulcans aren't just more intellectually capable. We can survive higher temperatures; go longer periods without sleep, nutrition and hydration; are physically and mentally stronger; are able to run faster, jump higher-"

"I get it." Jim gruffed. "Modest as well, I bet."

"We are also less prone to temptation." He said and he ran his finger over the sealed wound.

Jim halted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Spock's warm hands stopped for a split second before continuing. "Exactly my point, Mr. Kirk, as I said we are more intellectually capable."

Jim really would've whipped round and punched him, but lack of sleep was starting to get to him. He couldn't focus properly. He tried to wake himself up just to show Spock he didn't... need sleep... wait, what was he showing Spock again?

"You're more adapted to survive but that doesn't make you the better species." Jim mumbled. "It just makes you a egotistical prick. And that's saying something, coming from me."

Spock didn't answer as he stood, allowing Jim to lay down on the mattress. He left the cell, contemplating his words.

 


	4. A Swarm Reception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {{Fear}}

 

Jim didn't usually get scared.

That being said, he never had to face the Vulcan Council before. He was fucking _terrified_.

When Bones and the others showed up, it took all his effort not to crap himself right there just out of relief.

"What have you gotten yourself into now, you dumb bastard?"

"Oh, Bones."

"Oof." Bones grunted as Jim slammed their chests together in a hug. "The last time someone was this happy to see me... actually, I don't recall."

Before they pulled away, Bones took a moment to whisper in his ear. "You can't tell me what this green-blooded hobgoblin is saying is true."

Jim looked over to Sarek and Spock who had escorted them. Jim knew exactly which hobgoblin he was talking about. Said hobgoblin was staring intently at them, observing. He nodded. "Apparently they're my lawyers."

"Not that." Bones dismissed, like being accused of a crime was a minor thing in comparison. "They said your willing to go through a medical?"

 

Whilst being sat there, Jim remembered why he really hated everyone. Bones was digging things in his arm, checking his eyes, ears, mouth nose - practically every hole - and he was even getting his brain scanned.

"You tore your stitches again, didn't you?"

Jim coughed. "Nope."

"Jim, I ain't blind." Bones said.

"Then you can see they're still intact."

"With Vulcan fiber thread." Bones stated. "Whoever did it did a good job."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Before or after I nearly bled out? Or passed out from pain?" He muttered.

"That reminds me," Bones started. "What's that hobgoblin's deal?"

They were alone in the room, but Jim took a glance around him anyway. "No idea."

"You know he's been looking at you with this burning look like he wants to break your neck."

"Oh yeah." Jim nodded, casual. "Nothing new there."

Bones tapped a little hammer into his kneecaps, checking his reflexes. "I'm guessing you said something stupid?"

Jim scoffed. "Why always the blame on me?" He paused. "I might have called him an egotistical prick."

"You're not wrong."

"Exactly! I don't know what it is, there's just something so off about him."

The door slid open and Spock entered, unaware of the conversation that was being had about him. Or maybe he was aware, and was good at hiding it. He shuffled some papers in his hand, giving them to Bones. "I can confirm through analysis of the MRI scans, though I'd like to personally disagree, that Mr. Kirk's brain activity is standard for humans and there is no mental deterioration."

Bones scoffed.

"Is there a problem with this information, Doctor McCoy?"

"Not with the information, no." Bones shot a knowing look at Jim, who was grinning at him.

"See what I mean?"

Spock was definitely aware they were bitching about him now but he didn't look too ruffled. "Your reputation proceeds you, Mr. Kirk." Spock held out this morning's Vulcan news on the PADD, and Jim was surprised he had made the headline: ' _Murder? Human on trial for murder of Officer Sthrak_.'

"Just what I needed."

"The trial will commence in 16 minutes." Spock stated, and motioned for them to follow him.

"Woah, woah, hold it a sec." Jim grabbed the crook of Spock's elbow to turn him around. Spock eyed his hand poisonously to get him to remove it. Jim complied. "I'm kinda flying blind here. What am I supposed to be expecting?"

Spock had a snooty look on his face again. "Due to your lack of knowledge on Vulcan culture and limited capacity to memorise large amounts of information in a short space of time, the trial has been modified for your benefit to fit human customs. It will resemble a court trial with defence and prosecution 'lawyers', so to speak."

Jim nodded airily. "Right."

"You should be aware that Vulcans would rarely have such need for court systems, since there is only logic and no emotion. Without emotion, there cannot be motive."

"Thanks for the sociology lesson, but I don't care how great your race is." Jim waved.

"I would amend your attitude toward my race, Mr. Kirk. It is not a panel of humans you will be facing." Spock stepped forward so he was a little more in Jim's face. They paused for a few seconds in that position, their eyes locked. "We will be 1.2 minutes late if we don't leave immediately." Spock said, and turned to leave.

Bones pulled a face. "I'll grab him and you punch."

 

  
Walking into the room where the Vulcan Council stood was like walking into hot lava. They were stood on raised platforms so they were looking down on them. Even Scotty, who was chipper to be in Shi'Kahr city and hadn't shut up since he landed, was dead silent. Jim felt sorry for Sam; the poor kid must have been shook to the bone.

There were more people gathered around the sides that were probably there to watch the trial. Apparently, Jim had become a big deal overnight. He was always the talk of the town for one reason or another, but it was never for the right reason.

He saw the way they looked at him; there was disappointment, fear, disgust, not written on their Vulcan faces but in their auras. Jim could feel everything in the stuffy room, it was so hard to breathe in the smothering atmosphere.

"How is it you always make a huge deal of things wherever you go?" Bones said in his ear.  
  
"I swear, it just happens. I have no control." He whispered back, before Spock hissed at them both to be quiet.

"I will warn you, Mr. Kirk. As difficult as it may be for you, only speak when you are addressed." He said, as the room quietened.

"Good morning, Council." Sarek greeted, his voice echoing as he stepped forward.

"Greetings, Sarek. You are representing the defendant."

"That is correct."

"Have him step forward."

Jim must have been frozen stiff because it took a shove from Spock to get him to move. He stood by Sarek with shaky legs.

"You are James Tiberius Kirk, of George and Winona."

"Yes." Jim said, and he was shocked at how smooth his voice was when it came out.

"You are being accused of the murder of Sthrak whilst on duty as an officer. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." Jim said.

"Very well. We shall have the prosecution side go first." The chairman raised a hand out and another Vulcan made her way into the middle.

"Greetings, Council." She said.

"Greetings, T-hao."

She bowed her head. "I will be representing the deceased and his family."

Jim felt his stomach sink. Not once did it occur to him that the poor man who died had a family. He never thought of Vulcans as family people. There was an older woman and little girl, her pointy ears should've been droopy to match her strained expression. Jim felt horrible.

"I will begin with the victim's injuries sustained. Irreparable damage was done to the spinal cord, rib cage and legs on the impact of the crash." T-hao explained. "Such injuries, although crippling and paralysing, were not the cause of death. The victim passed away due to blood loss at the severing of several main arteries in the neck delivering blood to the brain. This injury was not caused by the crash, as Vulcan shuttles are built to collapse on impact and not shatter. The fact that the shuttle had broken into pieces and had no dents that resembled a typical crash, suggests that it had been brought down. Several tests were done to check for mechanical failure, all came back negative. One scenario to explain this may be that the crash was caused to weaken the victim before the murder, as the differences in capability between Vulcans and Humans are apparent." She brought out some statistics, reeled off her point with a flourish.

Sarek cleared his throat. "Council, I will counter this with agreement." There were a couple of puzzled faces - Jim's included - before Sarek continued his explanation. "It is completely true that the shuttles are built to collapse. It may be that the shuttle was brought down. But there is nothing suggesting that James Kirk was responsible for this. He had no means to bring down a shuttle as he found on the crime scene with only a water canister, no weapons of any kind."

T-hao practically cut him off. "He was found with a flask of brandy, which was tested and found to be made of high concentrations of Vulcan orchid seed ethanol, illegal for recreational use, and only used in hospitals for medicinal purposes. It was likely stolen, as a report of 2 trays of missing ethanol was filed two weeks ago."

Shit, thought Jim. He really wasn't helping himself here was he?

Sarek shook his head. "Council, that is irrelevant information to the matter being discussed."

T-Hao challenged. "It may be extremely relevant, Council. James Kirk was found to have intoxication levels of 24 percent when found on the crime scene. A drunken haze could've been a contributing factor to the death of the victim."

Drunken haze at 24 percent intoxication? Jim thought to himself. All he had were a few sips. Wow, these guys really should've seen him when he was completely smashed that other day. Did Vulcans ever let their hair down? He kept quiet to hear mom and dad argue, scared of fucking things up more.

"An imaginative, but unlikely scenario." Sarek said, and Jim had to wince at the harshness. "When Mr. Kirk was taken into custody, he obeyed all rules and orders and showed no behaviour that suggested he was under the influence of a drunken rage. It would seem highly unlikely that he would randomly lash out on one unassuming Vulcan and not display similar behaviour towards another."

Jim had to conceal his smile. Sarek was killing it.

"Furthermore, an analysis was done to test for Mr. Kirk's brain activity patterns in concordance with that of known human murderers." He motioned to Spock, who stepped forward to hold out the images from the scans. "As you can clearly see, there are no similarities or abnormalities that show Mr. Kirk to be a violent psychopathic murderer. Also through his medical, curtsy of Dr. McCoy, it is shown that Mr. Kirk has a high tolerance to alcohol and 24 percent intoxication would be impossible to cause a 'drunken haze'."

T-Hao tried to compose herself after practically getting ripped apart by Sarek. "There is more." She began. "The piece of metal that had impaled the victim had in fact come from the tail of the shuttle. It is statistically impossible that, even if it broke mid-flight, it would change direction and land in the victim's neck. It picked up from the back as someone approached and used to brutally stab the victim to death."

Sarek stretched his arms and refolded them behind his back. "That may suggest someone had killed him. And yet, there is no evidence linking specifically James Kirk to the crime. There is no DNA evidence, no fingerprints on the makeshift weapon. This shows that he couldn't possibly have committed this crime."

The Council and most of the people in the hall seemed to deliberate on this.

T-Hao refused to back down. "One important fact, is that Officer Sthrak was on duty at the time of his death. As I read direct from the schedule, he had been on routine checks to Scotty's Repairs, a human electrical appliance repair shop, earlier in the day. This is Mr. Kirk's place of work, is it not?"

It took Jim a moment to realise she had asked him a question. He felt every pair of eyes burn into him and he sizzled at the pressure. "That's right."

"So you are confirming that you had interacted with Officer Sthrak before, and it was not the first time you had met him when you had discovered him dead?"

Jim swallowed thickly. "Yes."

"Council, the likelihood of such an occurrence is a mere 3.8 percent. Such a measly chance cannot be due to coincidence, can it not?" She seemed to have found her vigour again.

Sarek was silent for a few seconds, thinking deeply on what to say next. He brought a finger to his chin. "I request to bring out the witnesses."

"Request granted." The chairman waved.

Sarek brought out Scotty first, asked him questions about what Jim was like as a worker and about the day Sthrak came into the store. Poor Scotty was shaking, scared out of his Scottish skin as he spoke. Sam was brought on next, and Jim was surprised to see the kid impeccably calm. His eyes were searching, calculating as he recalled when he saw Sthrak come in. Jim also noticed his modified story; he had come in to get a computer fixed, rather than his little techno cube. Jim understood, he wouldn't want to risk his work to be confiscated either.

When Bones was brought on, Jim wanted to laugh really hard at him. He was trying to keep his cool as best he could, but the pressure must have been getting to him because a drip of sweat started beading down his forehead. He shot murderous glances at Jim for putting him in his precarious position, and Jim could only smirk and mouth ' _Sorry_!'

Once the witnesses had each said their point, Sarek finished with a solid conclusion.

"We will now deliberate." The council stood from their seats to discuss what they heard. Jim and the others returned to where Spock was stood at the side.

Jim couldn't resist. "An idiot would know I didn't do it." He said, making Spock glare.

"Obviously. My father knows what he's doing." He said quietly. "Though your actions did not help him in the slightest."

Jim didn't get a chance to ask Spock what he was talking about. When the Council returned, the room went completely silent. Jim had to swallow a lump in his throat. No matter how confident he made himself look on the outside, he was scared shit-less.

"James Tiberius Kirk, step forward."

He stepped up and found his legs moving in horrible wobbly ways his brain wasn't telling them to.

"In our deliberation, we have found James T. Kirk to be innocent."

Jim let out a sigh of relief big enough to blow down a house. There were murmurs among everyone in the room.

"However, there are important matters to bring to attention." The chairman said, and Jim wanted to jump off a building. "Though testing he has been found guilty of the recreational use of Vulcan orchid seed ethanol for alcohol consumption and has been charged with two weeks community service within Shi'Kahr city."

Now Jim knew what Spock was talking about and he breathed another sigh of relief. He'd take it, two weeks of community service was nothing compared to jail. What was a Vulcan prison like? Did they have them or were they too logical for them? Maybe if he was found guilty they'd have to build him one. Maybe they'd kill him.

"The conditions of your service are as follows: you will remain in the human settlement and report to Shi'Kahr city every morning for duties. Times will last from 8am to 6pm, after which, you will be allowed to return home."

Jim didn't like the sound of that timetable, but when putting it into perspective, he'd take it without complaint.

"Yes, thank you, uh, Council." He stumbled, and Spock nearly rolled his eyes.

"This trial is closed, and James T. Kirk is free. But due to the evidence brought forward by T-Hao, it is clear that the victim's death was a murder and not an accident. The Council has assigned the ongoing investigation to Sarek."

Sarek bowed his head. "It would be an honour, Council."

"That will be all."

The Council stood from their high chairs and the spectators in the room dispersed.

Bones clapped Jim on the shoulder. "Well done, Jim. You're finally taking some accountability for your stupid decisions."

Jim didn't know what to think at this point. His nerves were shot and he was getting a real bad migraine.

"Bones," he said quietly. "Speaking of bad decisions, I could really, _really_ do with a drink right now."

Bones couldn't have let out a bigger sigh if he tried. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "For fuck's  _sake_ , Jim."

 


	5. The Pride Of Iowa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {{Pride}}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something light and quick. The original chapter decided to delete itself and I had no back up. Yes, I re-wrote the whole thing with a lot of changes. May have been just as well because I wasn't happy with it, but I'm not happy with this one either. Oh well, hope you enjoy it anyway!

 

One important feature of probability was that there was never a 100 percent chance of something occurring. There was always a chance, no matter how minuscule, that an anomaly could occur. That being said, Spock was almost certain that whatever Sybok was up to, was nothing good. He spent almost all day in his own quarters, though Spock had interestingly noted his presence at the trial. Before he could speak to him on the matter, Sybok had reclusively returned back to his quarters.

Spock found himself conflicted. He desperately wanted to ensure his ties with his half-brother were cemented, but he also wanted to repair the loose bond he had with his father. Their position meant Spock was caught in a drift between them both. Growing closer to one would mean growing distant to the other.

Spock cornered his father at the next available opportunity. By that, it meant that Spock _made_ the opportunity become available. It just so happened to be at his father's workplace, which Sarek was not pleased about.

"It is highly unprofessional to bring affairs of the home to a working environment, Spock. This could've waited till a more opportune time."

"Time may never be opportune, father." Spock quickened his pace to keep up with Sarek's hastened walk. "I believe Sybok needs some inclusion."

"He cannot be included if he chooses not to be." Sarek said quickly, and Spock knew this was about his brother's decision on the Vulcan Expeditionary Group. "Again, I am going to ask you to leave this be for now. Matters at work need by undivided attention; I have been thrust full force into a murder investigation." Spock didn't miss the sharpness in his tone.

"That is another thing I wanted to speak about. I believe it would be a good idea to have Sybok and I working on the investigation with you. The addition of two individuals will be of great value to you and to him."

"He has been asked. He refused."

Spock felt a flicker of disappointment. "You have already asked him?" _And not me?_  He wanted to add. He really wanted to be a part of the case.

"This is why I tell you, he cannot be included if he chooses not to be."

Spock felt a little bold. "Then I can solely contribute to your investigation without Sybok."

Sarek stopped so suddenly that Spock had already took three steps ahead before he realised and stopped too.

"And how will this benefit Sybok?"

The truth was, it wouldn't, but Spock wasn't going to pass up such a fantastic opportunity.

"It will benefit you. I can still help."

Sarek began his fast pace again. "I am quite capable of running an investigation without under-qualified assistance."

That made Spock wince. "And I understand that, but my expertise in-"

"You have studies to complete. This investigation will serve nothing more than a distraction to you."

"And I am quite capable of studying and assisting a family member at the same time."

Sarek turned sharply, his hand up against the door he was just about to enter. "I have a meeting to attend. You will return home and not bring up this conversation again, do you understand me, Spock?"

"But father, I really must insist-"

"Do you understand me?"

There was a pause. "Yes, father."

Sarek turned to enter, before he halted. He turned back to face Spock with his expression lightly softened.

"This investigation will take up most of my attention. If you insist on helping me, you will supervise James Kirk on his community service for the next two weeks, I do not have the time."

Spock would rather have jumped from a very high cliff. Or be bitten by an A'lazb. Either one seemed like viable options in comparison. He really did not want to waste his time babysitting the incapable human, but Spock was stubborn in his decision to help his family. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. Even if Spock was going to spend the next two weeks ripping the hair off his own head.

"If it will benefit you, I will gladly do so."

Sarek didn't reply and entered the room, leaving Spock alone in the hallway.

 

  
Jim didn't really do mornings. His early start had given him a migraine. He didn't even mean to be late.

"You were informed to arrive at eight. I have been waiting for twenty minutes."

Jim was busy being checked by city border guard that he didn't see who was speaking to him. But he didn't need to see the person to know who it was. "You try walking across the sand in under 10 minutes. Go on, try it."

Jim watched a slight frown appear on Spock's features as he came into his field of vision. "Are you not aware of the distance of 0.92 miles from the settlement to the city, and with average human walking speed of 3mph, it would take-"

"Yeah. That's great, math whizz, but it's still too early for calculations." Jim straightened his shirt once the guard had done his checks.

Spock folded one arm to bring the PADD into his chest. "Vulcan mornings begin at 5am. I suggest you set off earlier to arrive on time tomorrow."

"Or you could just organise a ride to come get me."

"That will be illogical, as you are being punished."

Jim rolled his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway? Where's the older one?"

Spock began walking and motioned Jim to follow. "I have once again found myself as a replacement for my father. Sarek sends his greetings, but he is far to preoccupied with an investigation to supervise a human."

Jim yawned. "That's great. Stuck with you for two weeks then, am I?"

"Unfortunately so."

The inner city was protected by a circular outer edge. The way in was through a train-like transporter that whizzed on a track.

Jim look a seat opposite to Spock so he could observe him, suss him out. He looked down as he typed on the PADD acutely aware of Jim's blatant staring.

"Are they soft?"

Spock looked up, brows furrowed. "Specify?"

Jim made a vague gesture to the shell of his ear.

Spock's brows softened and eyes narrowed. "I do not see any relevance between our objective and the texture of my Vulcan features."

A gust of wind blew against the window in the opposite direction the carriage was travelling, so strong it picked up grains of sand and scraped them against the glass.

"Boy, this storm is bad."

"It is yet to worsen through the Shi'Kahr district."

Jim visibly tensed. "Iowa."

Spock's narrowed expression returned. "This geographical area is no longer referred to as Iowa."

"That's what it is. I'll still be calling it Iowa until I'm in the grave, that's not going to change."

"Irrational." Spock commented. "Humans are irrationally prideful."

Jim sighed. "Going to be a long two weeks."

Spock was going to comment that the passing of time couldn't change its speed, but decided against it and instead looked back at his PADD. 

They got off the carriage and walked through the city; it wasn't too large. Jim had never really got to take in the beauty of it when he was busy being arrested, but now he could really appreciate it. Most of the paintwork on the tall buildings was matt to prevent shine into eyes from the sun, apart from the windows, that had a little glimmer that turned into a glare at the wrong angle. The floor-work was borderline artistic, patterns swirled and carved into the pavement.

"Wow." Jim couldn't help himself say out loud.

Spock looked up from the PADD to see what Jim was referring to. "Yes. The city is quite beautiful."  
  
Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't beauty illogical to you guys?"

Spock blinked. "Beauty can be logical, Mr. Kirk. It gives us pride on our customs and culture; a beautiful city encourages people to take care of it, maintaining its prosperity." He paused. "But do not misunderstand that our logical methods prohibit us from appreciating attractiveness. We can still form individual opinions and have individual tastes. We can still find things... _attractive_." Spock's voice dropped an octave lower as he finished his sentence and he averted his gaze from Jim. "Let us continue." He said after clearing his throat.

As they walked, Spock took the opportunity to inform Jim of the day's plans. "I have compiled a list of activities that will be suitable for your two-week placement. Today will consist of some maintenance at the city library. You are trained in the use of mechanics, correct?"

"That's me."

"Excellent. We will begin with this, although the schedule will have to be modified due to your late arrival." Spock frowned and looked back down at the PADD. He began typing as he talked. "I must stress you arrive on time for the remainder of your service. I will be reporting to the Council, and I can assure privileges will be removed as a sanction."

"Privileges?"

"Your evenings spent at home can be inhibited so you spend the entity of the two weeks in the city. This will improve punctuality. Sanctions could be longer finishes, earlier starts, perhaps even an extension of the two week timeframe."

"You've got to be kidding me." Jim had the most disgusted expression on his face, as if he stepped in Sehlat faeces.

"Don't be insulting; Vulcans do not 'kid'."

"You would rat on me to the Council?" Jim folded his arms.

"I do not see how a small Terran mammal of the rodent family has any significance in this conversation."

Jim grimaced viciously. He brought his fingers to the bridge of his nose and exhaled. "Give me strength. Please, not him. Not for two weeks. It has to be a joke." He muttered to himself.

"This is no laughable matter, I can assure you. Although I must admit, the purpose of a human practical joke escapes me."

A smirk suddenly appeared on Jim's face, his stress forgotten. "I could enlighten you. Remind me to try one on you sometime."

Spock looked scandalised. "I will do nothing of the sort."

They continued their walk, till Jim came to a complete standstill like a frozen glacier. Spock only realised when he heard heavy human footsteps cease behind him. He turned and followed Jim's astonished gaze to the fountain at the centre of the park.

"Ah yes, the fountain was built after-"

"You're shitting me."

"Excuse me?"

Jim tore his gaze away to look angrily at Spock. He pointed at the fountain, his tone laced with something between annoyance and fury. "That has to be a joke."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Spock crinkled his brows at the curious human, drawing the PADD closer to his body out of habit.

"You built a fucking fountain. In a desert climate. What's logical about that?"

Spock masked over his offence. It damaged his ego to allow the human to poke holes in Vulcan logic and he wasn't going to allow it, not at all. "I have explained the means of making the city attractive-"

"Yeah yeah, pretty city and all, but it's pointless as shit. What is it doing exactly? Nothing. It's not distributing water at all is it? What a waste of good piping." Jim inhaled and continued. "Meanwhile, there's people struggling to collect water everyday miles from where they live. It would make lives easier if we had access to the same tech as you. Would it kill you to share some stuff to even the balance between us?"

"I see no imminent danger to my life." Spock found the flared temper of the human fascinating. It reminded him of something, though he couldn't quite pinpoint the nostalgia.

"Exactly." Jim huffed. "Don't speak to me. I'm here to do my time and go home, not for conversation. Especially with the likes of you."

Spock straightened. "Very well."

They walked in silence to the library, where Spock instructed him formally of his task to mend the loose wires in the database files. There was no further conversation, and Spock retreated to the back of the room so he could at least get a few study hours in whilst supervising the human as he worked. He bent over his PADD, concentrating.

"Done. You got anything else for me to do?"

Spock looked up from the PADD to see Jim standing in front of him with a stony expression. He looked very... _Vulcan_. It really didn't suit him.

Spock tried to contain his shock. He glanced at the time and saw he had been studying for only 34 minutes. Jim had completed the task already, when it had been planned for two hours. How?

"Are you certain?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "Check it if you have to."

Spock did. Then checked again. Even checked a third time, just to be sure. Repeats reduced chances of error. By some miracle, the human had done it, and had done it in record time.

"Forgive me, I am surprised you had managed to complete such a complex task with such ease." Spock didn't know what to do with himself. He really hadn't prepared himself for such an outcome and felt so exposed. Again, an anomaly had taken him by surprise when he should have seen it coming.

"I'm not just an incompetent human, you know." Jim's expression turned from poker to angry.

Spock ran his fingers over the PADD. "It is only fitting we begin the next task then."

Spock watched with curiosity as Jim worked. He was almost as efficient as a Vulcan. Almost. It was clear he was very gifted in intellect, unlike the presumption that Spock had of him being dim-witted. Jim was such a contradiction to everything Spock knew of humans. Perhaps he had been observing the wrong ones. Or perhaps Jim was the anomaly.

"What're you doing?"

Spock looked up from the PADD. Jim was twirling a tool in his fingers, slouched impossibly angled. "Have you completed the task?"

Jim didn't answer, but it was safe to assume based on posture he had done so.

"You've hardly looked up from that thing all day."

"I am studying."

"You mean memorising pointless information."

Spock didn't even blink. "I recall you requesting me not to engage you in conversation."

"Well I'm here for eight hours and I'm bored as fuck."

"I can see why, you have completed all of today's _and_ tomorrow's tasks within the time of 4 hours."

"Impressed?" Jim found himself smiling.

"Moderately surprised." Spock corrected.

Jim twirled the tool again hazardously. "So what're you studying?" His tone indicated he was not angry anymore, but there was a slight edge that Spock couldn't pick out. He wasn't speaking as carefree, it was guarded and distant.

"Currently, xenolinguistics."

"Boring."

"A highly useful subject." Spock argued.

"You're on Earth. What alien language are you going to come across apart from your own? And mine."

"When I apply for the Vulcan Expeditionary Group, I will come across a great many cultures in space."

Jim perked up. "Out in space? Like real expeditions?"

"Yes, but it's permitted only after graduating from the Vulcan Science Academy back on the original Vulcan."

Jim flattened considerably. "So I guess you'll have to go back there to study before that, right?"

"Affirmative."

"Xenolinguistics is still stupid."

"I strongly disagree with that, Mr Kirk."

A beep sounded on the PADD.

"It is time for lunch." Spock announced, standing up.

"Oh, you're taking orders?" Jim smirked.

"Perhaps a lesson in Vulcan cuisine will be informative."

The smirk vanished. "Fuck no."

Spock almost grinned.

 

 


	6. What's With You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> {{Irritation}}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there. I'm aware it's been a long time. I'm terribly sorry for that. I've had this chapter partially completed since May of last year. Yes. It's been that long. A new year's resolution was to complete this. Let's hope I can stick to it this time.

 

"That shit looks disgusting."  
  
Spock took another mouthful, swallowed and spoke. "Ulan soup is quite nutritious. I find it more flavourful than plomeek soup."

"Yeah, no. It looks gross." Jim was sat across from Spock, watching him eat with a grimace while his own bowl went untouched.

"You must eat something, or you won't have the energy to compete the final tasks for today." Spock informed.

Jim gaped. "What? I still have to work? I've done all this week's work in a few hours!"

"Yes," Spock agreed. "Your schedule will have to be revised and altered to fit your pace. I will remind you it is not the number of tasks, but the time that was specified by the Council."

Jim scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Do you carry this rule book around with you or have you completely memorised it?"

Jim's belly suddenly growled, making him look down and put a hand against his stomach. Spock looked at him with a curious expression. "Fascinating." He commented.

Jim pulled a face. "What's in this anyway?" He poked around the bowl.

"The primary ingredient is the ulan plant. But there are also a range of other Vulcan plants mixed with forati sauce."

Jim didn't look too convinced. "No meat?"

Spock tilted his head. "Vegetarianism is a core of our culture."

"Really?" Jim looked shocked.

"We are a nonviolent race, Mr. Kirk. A quote from the Logic of Surak is 'Can you return life to what you kill?'."

"Interesting." Jim appeared to be making note of this in his head.

"It is also more efficient to eat plants than animals. They hold more energy that can be consumed, as they do not waste energy on movement, excretion, maintaining body heat, ect. More energy can be taken in from eating plants than eating the same weight of meat."

"Oh. Well, I guess you learn something new everyday." Jim said,  
but he still hadn't touched his bowl.

"Indeed. I find it illogical, however, that you find Vulcan plant cuisine disgusting, but do not find eating the flesh from a dead carcass revolting."

Jim smiled. "I'm funny that way. I guess it wouldn't kill me to try it, though." He looked down, sighed, and brought the spoon to his mouth.

Spock estimated the food had remained in Jim's mouth for approximately 1.3 seconds. It was difficult to be precise, since he had been showered in it as Jim sprayed it straight back out.

"That's nasty!" Jim let his tongue loll out of his mouth.

"I can agree." Spock said simply, and began dabbing at his soup-sprayed face with a cloth.

Jim laughed at him hysterically.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I never quite understood how humans find being covered in various substances humorous."

"Because I'm not the one covered in it." Said Jim, practically rolling on the floor. "It's hilarious!"

 

 

Spock made sure he had set a particularly difficult task for Jim for the rest of his time that day.

"You kidding me?"

"This morning you did take some interest in the fountain." Spock held out the small wire scrubbing brush for Jim to take.

Jim looked from the fountain, to the brush, to Spock.

"I'm not doing that." Jim scoffed.

"Failure to follow instructions will result in sanctions." Spock reminded.

"Is this payback?"

"Revenge requires the key emotion of anger to be felt by the individual. I feel no such emotion." Spock waved the brush. "It is simply a task that needs completing. A clean city is a prosperous city."

Jim sighed, long and deep, and finally took the brush from Spock. "I don't get paid enough credits for this." He muttered.

"This is community service, you don't get paid anything at all."

"Exactly." Jim stated and squatted by the fountain as Spock sat himself on a bench. He splashed some water on his face wiping the sweat that had built up over the day. He didn't know how he was going to survive the rest of the day- which was only half over - let alone two weeks of this.

With a sigh he took the small soap dish and began cleaning the fountain by scrubbing in small circles.

He looked at Spock who had calmly sat himself on a bench, leaning over his PADD. Jim scoffed. There was something about Spock that really irked him, and he couldn't figure it out.

He continued to scrub away, regardless.

"Hello."

The voice was soft and high-pitched, but it took Jim completely by surprise. It was a little Vulcan girl. She looked at him with glossy dark eyes that Jim thought seemed familiar. 

"Hi." he replied, straightening up.

"You are the Human that was not charged for the murder of Sthrak."

Jim sighed, because that's all he'd probably been known as to them. The Human had managed to get out of murder. "Yes."

The girl didn't look pleased. But then again, Vulcans never did. Only, Jim thought she looked a little sadder than a typical Vulcan would. "He was my brother."

Oh. Jim then recognised the girl as the one he noticed at the sides of the trial, the late victim's family. Instant regret washed over him. He crouched down, leveling their eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Unless you were responsible, you cannot be sorry." she said, simply without so much as a sniff. But Jim could see great pain reflected in the back of her eyes, one that she was concentrating all her conscious effort into concealing. Maybe it was because she was so young, but Jim saw something different in her compared to the rest of the Vulcans. She seemed, unafraid to feel. 

"No, I know- I know what it's like to lose a brother. I understand it's not easy. It wasn't for me, let alone a kid like you."

"We have a saying for such sympathy. 'I grieve with thee'." She bowed her head.

"That seems appropriate. I grieve with thee." Jim said and smiled. 

She blinked twice, something catching her eye above Jim's head, then scurried away. Jim followed her gaze, coming to rest on Spock behind him.

"Taking a break, are we?" Spock said from above him as Jim stood back up.

"No, actually. She approached me."

"Evidently. You have missed a spot." Spock said stiffly, and returned to his seat.

 

 

* * *

 

 

If Jim thought it was hot before, he had no idea what he was talking about. He could feel the sweat building up on his skin but not evaporating anywhere, because the air was so humid. It stuck to his skin like a sheet. Jim could feel himself panting, the air making it difficult to breathe. Various Vulcan plants were laid out in rows upon rows; in greens, purples and oranges.

"The greenhouses ensure that our Vulcan plants have the optimum conditions to grow. They create an environment almost identical to Vulcan atmosphere." Spock strolled down one of the rows with Jim shadowing behind.

"Yeah, I can tell." Jim exhaled heavy. "I'm- struggling just to breathe over here."

"Oxygen is actively pumped out to maintain low levels, along with water vapour to maintain a drier air for a constant transpiration stream and water uptake by roots. The temperature has also been increased to fit these particular plants' optimum rate for photosynthesis."

"Drier air?" Questioned Jim, pulling at the neck of his shirt to get a draught in. "This air isn't so dry to me."

"Apart from informing you of our produce, there is another reason for me bringing you here: the valve for removing water vapour is faulty and requires a replacement. This will be your final task for the day." Spock said with conviction. He didn't seem tired of Jim at all despite spending the entire day with him. Or, he was good at hiding it.

"I'll get on it." Jim said, and Spock directed him to the pipe.

"To ensure you don't feint from the exertion of labour and low oxygen, I will inject you with a tri-ox compound to aid your haemoglobin affinity for oxygen." Spock held out a syringe.

Jim jumped away. "Whoa, I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm not having anyone in this city put anything like that near me."

Spock tried his best not to seem exasperated. So he _was_ tired of Jim, then. "It's to help you, Mr Kirk, it won't hinder you. I have nothing to gain from harming you. I will also add that I have chosen to go out of my way to get this for you to make your task easier, when I could have just as easily chose not to help you at all."

"Emotional blackmail? Really? Are Vulcans capable of that?" Jim folded his arms.

Spock furrowed his brows so deeply Jim thought they'd pop off his forehead and go for a walk.

Spock practically spat the words out. "It is _fact_ , a completely true statement for your information, and not emotional blackmail. I am not a Human who twists goodwill to their own agendas."

Jim smirked, knowing he was getting under Spock's skin. "But it's a logical method for you to get want you want." He argued.

"I won't have to resort to those methods, as you _will_ do as you are told or you will be sanctioned."

Spock looked pissed off, like he was ready to choke Jim lifeless, so Jim reluctantly decided to back down, despite still being apprehensive. "Look, I have a thing against needles. I don't want you sticking anything in me."

Spock exhaled hard and spoke with voice impassively hard and even. "Then you will have to wear an oxygen mask."

 

The mask wasn't so bad, except for being slightly too big. He had to keep adjusting it back onto his face. The pipe Jim had to look at had cracked so was leaking water vapour back into the greenhouse rather than removing it.

Jim sighed with exertion into the mask. This was difficult work. The tools kept slipping out of his sweaty palms and he had to wrap his arms around the large pipe to keep it up while he tinkered.

Jim took a quick glance behind him when he set the pipe down for a rest. The Vulcan was stood a couple of metres away, rigidly straight with his arms fixed behind his back.

What was his deal? Why was he so... Vulcan?! Spock was so impossible. He was such an utter stick in the mud it couldn't be real.

Jim continued to watch him. He was looking off into the distance, deep in thought. Jim picked up the tools again and began wringing around the bolts of the pipeline. He kept glancing over as he worked to observe him, his attention focused more on Spock than what he should have been doing.

As he wrenched the bolt, Jim applied a little too much pressure than he should have, and ended up snapping the bolt off the pipe completely. Cooled water vapour began spraying forcibly out of the crack, showering Jim in the process.

Spock's head snapped to the side when he heard the clang of the burstage, staring violently at Jim as he attempted to regain control of the situation. Spock did nothing, only stared, as Jim replaced and tightened the bolt. Eventually he fixed it, but he was now soaked to the bone.

Once Spock was safe from the steady stream of water, he made his way over to the pipe.

"Don't even say anything." Jim interjected before Spock did. He wiped a wet hand down his face, positively dripping.

"If you are under the impression that I was going to wittingly remark on your inability to function," Spock paused, a wisp of a smirk on his face. "Then you are absolutely correct."

Jim found it in himself to scoff. "You try fixing that in under 40 seconds. There'd be a lot more water leakage if anyone else tried it."

"It is not the fact that you fixed it - which by the way, took you 42 seconds - but the fact that you had created it in the first place."

Jim folded his arms, covering his nipples which had decided to perk up at the cool stimulation. He let out a shudder. "Nothing's ever good for you, is it?" He mumbled.

"Perfection is indeed, unattainable. However, there is an unexpected anomaly I am forced to compensate due to this situation. It seems I must take back my earlier spoken words." Spock raised a sharp brow.

Jim lifted the front of his shirt slightly to expose his stomach as he wrung out the water. His expression was curious and hopeful. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"I now understand why Humans find being covered in substances humorous." Spock was downright smiling. "It actually does appear to be amusing."

 

 

Once Jim had been sent home for the day, Spock returned home. 

The sun was beginning to set, and Earth's moon was starting to glimmer in it's reflective light overhead in the night sky. Spock would never admit it, but he found the moon the most beautiful attribute of the sky. 

"Oh, Spock, how was your day?" His mother asked him when he came through the front door. 

"It was adequate." Spock replied, slipping off his outer robe.

"And, the Kirk boy?"

"He is decidedly... of his own species, it appears."

His mother smiled broadly and tilted her head in a questioning expression.

"I was under the impression that all humans behave as you do."

Amanda gave a full-bodied laugh. "Considering it was me who married your father, I think it may be me that is the exception."

The question tethered on the edge of Spock's tongue. Why did you marry him?

His mother sensed it, like she always did. "You cannot ignore the bond, son."

Of course. His mother and father were _ko-telsu_ , that much was obvious.

"I tried to hate him, believe me. The bond was too strong to overcome. We were drawn to each other."

Spock hated discussing this because it meant that-

"Of course, you'll know of what I speak with T'Pring."

\- his own intended would be brought up.

"But father was intended to someone else first." Spock said without thinking, only trying to change the subject.

His mother tensed - purely instinctual; the thought of a bond-mate being with another.

"Yes." She said, a little more guarded. "Hence Sybok. But you'll find it only logical. If he hadn't wed before me, he would have died before I met him. You, might be spared from the difficulty."

Spock felt a flush down his neck. She was speaking of the _ponn farr_ , and even though she didn't say the words Spock attempted to steer the conversation away.

"Is father still with the elders?"

"He'll arrive late today. The investigation is taking up the majority of his time." She said regretfully. 

"And Sybok?"

"In his room."

Spock nodded once, and excused himself to his own quarters. 

He never got there, because he stopped himself outside of Sybok's. There was a dull thud from inside and a groan - an audible, full bodied groan of irritation. 

Spock blinked in shock. He understood that Sybok was going through a significant amount of stress with the Council and their father, but this... this was inexcusable. 

Spock entered at once. Sybok looked over with wide eyes, his concentration breaking. The pile of books that was levitating in the air fell to the ground with a similar sounding thud.

Spock couldn't stop his mouth from falling agape.

"Spock!" Sybok rushed over, closing the door, trapping Spock inside with the secret. "Why did you not knock?"

"You are attempting telekinesis." Spock stated, ignoring the question completely. 

Sybok looked visibly agitated. "Forget what you just saw."

"That is impossible-"

"Spock! Please. Father cannot know about this." Sybok put a hand on his forearm, urging. 

"You already are not on good terms, Sybok, what makes you think engaging in this will help the situation?"

"Precisely why he cannot know. Spock, as a brother, please. Do not tell him. Or mother."

"I cannot lie." Spock replied, scandalised.

"That is not what I am asking. I'm simply requesting you to... fail to bring the matter to their attention." Sybok suggested. 

Spock blinked. There was absolutely no logic to this situation. It was surprising then, when he found himself agreeing.

 

 


End file.
